


The King's Aid

by Bopie98



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 14:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16221113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bopie98/pseuds/Bopie98
Summary: Kamoshida rules with an iron fist, one that he uses frequently on his personal aid, Mishima Yuuki. Mishima accepted his fate, but after meeting a thief in the castle he's no longer sure of his destiny.





	The King's Aid

**Author's Note:**

> This is only the first of a eight part collection of one shots, each one focusing on a different party member. They will all be AkiraXparty member, which is why they're one shots and not one story. I hope you enjoy them! :)
> 
> -Bopie98

“How dare you serve this pig's swill to me!” King Kamoshida yelled as he threw the goblet at Mishima's face. Mishima allowed it to hit him, wine spilling all over him.

“My deepest apologies my King,” Mishima replied. He reached down to retrieve the goblet and Kamoshida kicked him hard in the stomach, laughing as Mishima doubled over. 

“Be sure that it doesn't happen again,” Kamoshida growled, his expression no longer pleasant.

“Yes my King.” Mishima finished cleaning up the goblet and returned it to his tray. He did his best to leave the throne room quickly, but not so quickly that it seemed like he was running away. He had made that mistake once before. As he passed others in the hall way he attempted to ignore their whispering. Many people serve the king, but it was Mishima who obtained the “honor” of being the king's personal servant. 

“Have you heard? Apparently a thief has been breaking into the castle at night for the last few nights,” one of the kitchen staff whispered to another as Mishima placed the goblet and tray down to be washed.

“I know! So far nothing has been stolen, but the King is on edge about it,” another servant replied. Mishima had noticed that the King had been more physical lately and now he knew why. It was surprising that a simple thief could allude Knight Captain Niijima for more than a day. “Oh, Mishima. Could you be a dear and go down to the apothecary? We have an order that needs to be picked up and the messenger is not here.”

“Yeah, that's fine,” Mishima replied. The King was going to be preoccupied for the next hour or so, so Mishima wasn't needed. He walked out of the castle and into the royal stables, looking at which horse to ride.

“Hey Mishima, what's up?” Ryuji asked as he leaned on his pitchfork. He used to be a messenger, but after a certain “accident” he was unable to mount a horse and now works as the stable hand.

“I'm headed to the apothecary,” Mishima replied. Ryuji was one of the few people in the castle that didn't look at Mishima with pity in his eyes and he appreciated it. After looking at all the horses Mishima brought out Jack Frost, a white Andalusian. He and Ryuji set up the saddle and Mishima climbed on. “I'll be back soon.”

“Sure thing,” Ryuji replied as he returned to his duties. Mishima rode out of the stable and through the city. He always cringed at the sight of the town outside the castle walls. Most of the buildings were poorly built and maintained, people begging for food on the streets. Once reaching the apothecary he tied up his horse out front and walked in. 

“Sir Sakura,” Mishima greeted the owner. Sojiro Sakura was an older gentleman and he had a bit of a temper, but he was reasonable if you were reasonable to him. “I'm here to pick up an order for the castle.”

“Ah, yes. Just a moment while I get it,” Sojiro replied. He wiped his hands on his apron and headed toward the back. “Akira! Watch the front for a moment!” As Sojiro walked out of sight a boy, no older than Mishima himself, walked out. His hair was pitch black and and thick, his eyes steel gray. He wore an apron and other common clothes, making Mishima feel overdressed.

“Are you new to the kingdom? I haven't seen you around here before,” Mishima asked after clearing his throat lightly.

“Yeah, there was...an incident back home. So I came to live here for a while,” Akira replied. “What's your name?”

“Oh, it's Yuuki Mishima, but everyone just calls me Mishima,” Mishima replied, standing a little straighter.

“Why? I like the name Yuuki,” Akira replied with a smile. Mishima turned a slight red and coughed into his hand. Sojiro walked out with a small box filled with various different concoctions. Mishima handed over a small satchel of coins and Sojiro quickly and carefully counted the contents.

“As always it's a pleasure doing business with the castle,” Sojiro commented after returning the money to the satchel. Akira shot Sojiro a confused expression and Sojiro reciprocated with a stern look. Akira shrugged and grabbed a mortar and pestle. Mishima nodded politely and stole another glance at Akira before walking out of the shop. He untied his horse and mounted it, riding back to the castle. He rode it back into the stables, his mind on Akira.

After returning the horse and dropping the potions off in the kitchen he headed to the throne room. As he entered the staff and guards looked at him, pity clear in their eyes. Mishima didn't know what was going on, but he knew it wasn't going to be good. He walked up to the King and bent down on one knee.

“Where were you?” the King demanded.

“I ran an errand while you were seeing to the people,” Mishima replied, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. He didn't dare raise his head until the King made it clear he was allowed to. He sensed the boot coming before it connected with his sternum, sending him flying backward.

“Did I not make it clear when I gave you your position that you were not to be out of earshot of me?” the King asked as he walked over.

“I apologize my King, it won't happen again.” Mishima bit back tears and a scream when the king kicked him again, this time hard in his side. He thought he heard something crack, but he couldn't be sure. The king stepped on Mishima's chest, applying just enough pressure to make breathing impossible.

“It better not,” the king growled. After a few moments he got off of Mishima, leaving him coughing and gasping for air. The King headed out of throne room, his personal guard following suit. “As it were I am retiring to my chambers for the night. See too it that my garments are prepared for tomorrow.”

“Yes my King,” Mishima gasped out. He stood up, wincing and holding his side. He stood as straight as he could until the doors closed behind the King. As he began to crumple Ann caught him and kept him standing.

“Are you all right?” she asked. Ann was the King's favorite “toy”, a title she was not particularly fond of.

“I-I'll be okay. This isn't the worst he's ever done,” Mishima replied as he stood back up. “I have to prepare the King's garments. Have a good night Miss Ann.” Mishima limped away, trying to hide the tears springing to his eyes. He stopped by the royal physician to bind his wounds before heading to the laundry room. He wasn't sure if it was to punish him, but the King insisted that only Mishima wash his clothes and the others were too afraid to even attempt to cross him. He got started immediately, taking it slow because of his wound.

The moon was high in the sky by the time he was finish. He was exhausted, but he knew he had to be up at dawn with the King. The King needed Mishima to taste his breakfast in case of poison. He walked slowly down the empty hallway, the light of the moon being his only guide. And his only friend. He heard a noise further down the corridor and it startled him slightly. He didn't expect anyone else to be awake this late. He walked slowly forward and jumped when a cat lept out of the shadows.

“Hey, what are you doing in here?” Mishima asked as he carefully crouched down. “The King isn't really a fan of animals, so you better find your way back out before he demands I cook you up so he can eat you.” The cat hissed loudly and Mishima chuckled to himself. As the cat bolted off Mishima stood up. As he continued his way to the servants' chambers, someone grabbed him by the waist and covered his mouth to muffle his scream.

“Shh, stop screaming,” the figure said in a hushed whisper. He pushed Mishima up against the wall and tears sprang into his eyes. The figure, a boy clad in black with a white mask and red gloves, stepped back either in surprise or concern. “I didn't hurt you did I? I didn't think I grabbed you that rough.” Mishima slid down the wall, gripping his side and biting back his scream. He tried to focus on his breathing as he fought through the agony. The figure crouched down and gently touched Mishima's cheek. “Did the King do this to you?”

“I'm his personal attendant,” Mishima said, the tears flowing despite his best efforts. “I must do as the King wishes without question or hesitation. I am honored to hold such an important role.” Mishima closed his eyes, not wanting to see the pity in the figure's. He couldn't handle seeing another person feeling bad for him and not doing anything about it.

“Yuuki, I know this is a lot to ask, but I need you to tell me where Kamoshida keeps his crown when it's not on his head.” Mishima looked up confused. No one in the entire kingdom that he knew of called him Yuuki.

“Where did you learn my name?” Mishima asked as he wiped his tears on his sleeve.

“That's not important right now. I need to know where the crown is kept,” the figure urged. Mishima became silent, fear of this figure and the King's wrath coursing through his veins. “I'm not going to hurt you Yuuki, I promise.”

“I can't, he'll kill me for sure,” Mishima protested. The figure glanced down the hall and cursed to himself. 

“Listen, I have to go. Meet me tomorrow night in the courtyard,” the figure instructed. Mishima could only nod and the figure smiled. He stood up and helped Mishima up, taking both of Mishima's hands in his. “And Yuuki? Don't let him hurt you anymore.” Before Mishima had time to even process what he said, the figure was gone.

“Mishima?” Mishima jumped at the feminine voice and spun around. 

“Oh, Makoto. What are you doing here?” Mishima asked. Makoto was Knight Captain Niijima's younger sister and page.

“I needed a book from the library, what about you?” Makoto asked.

“I was washing the King's garments. I'm headed to bed,” Mishima replied.

“I see. Well, goodnight.” Mishima nodded slightly in response and headed to his bed in the servants' quarters. Even though he was the King's personal servant, the only special treatment he was given was received by the bottom of his boot. He crawled onto his bed carefully and stared out the window that was right above it. He was exhausted, but he always took at least a few moments to gaze at the stars. When he finally closed his eyes it felt like he heard the rooster crow only minutes later. He groaned and rolled carefully out of bed, wincing in pain.

He walked quietly out of the servants' quarters, as many of them were still asleep. The only others awake were some of the cooks as the knights slept in their own quarters. He cleaned up the best he could quickly, taking care to re-wrap his chest. It was tender and blue, but he would survive. He walked into the dining hall as soon as he was dressed, sighing in relief that the King was no where in sight yet. He always did his best to arrive before the King. The other servants were quick to set the table, laying out many luxurious looking foods in front of just one chair. The King always ate alone.

“Good morning my subjects!” the King exclaimed as he walked into the room. Everyone in the room bowed and didn't dare lift their heads until the king permitted it. “Is everything ready?”

“Yes Sire,” one of the maids replied, her voice small and her head still down. 

“Excellent. Mishima, begin testing.” 

“Yes my King,” Mishima replied. He lifted his head and took his designated fork, stabbing small amounts of each item on the table. Everything was delicious as usual, but he tried not to show how enamored with the food he was. After he was finished the King stared at him for a few moments, watching to see if Mishima died on the spot. When nothing happened he sat in his chair and began filling his mouth with food, ignoring his own plate completely.

“What is on my docket today?” the King asked, his mouth full of food.

“After your meal you have a meeting with Sir Kaneshiro. After that you will entertain a portion of your subjects before lunch,” one of the others explained. The King nodded and swallowed the food in his mouth.

“The people are such a bore,” he commented with a sigh.

“Yes, but they're getting restless. Especially since you cut their time yesterday short.”

“I had to. If I would've had to listen to one more pathetic peasant, I would've ordered the knights to deliver me their heads.” Mishima kept his expression neutral while his heart ached. His parents were some of those “peasants”. He used to have friends outside the castle walls, though he wasn't able to get in contact with any of them. The King's personal aid consorting with peasants? It would be shameful and degrading. At least that's what the King said. After breakfast the King walked to the throne room, stopping Mishima from following him. Mishima bowed and backed off. He was grateful for such an early meeting. Many times he didn't have a chance to have a proper meal until the King retired to his room for the day.

Mishima walked briskly toward the kitchen, unsure of how long the meeting would last. Kaneshiro was a man of few words. He walked into the kitchen and found some of the kitchen staff talking with Sojiro and Akira.

“What are you two doing here?” Mishima asked, his eyes never leaving Akira. Many of the female staff members were cooing over him and for some reason unknown to him it made Mishima uncomfortable.

“I forgot something in the order you picked up yesterday, so we decided to bring it ourselves,” Sojiro explained. Akira looked over at Mishima and smiled, making his heart flutter. He walked over to Mishima and placed a small bottle in his hand.

“For your wound,” Akira whispered. Mishima looked confused, but Akira just smiled.

“Come on boy! We haven't got all day,” Sojiro called out. Akira turned around and walked out of the back entrance with Sojiro, leaving Mishima wondering. How did Akira know he was hurt? Mishima shook it off and found what little food was left of the servants' meal. He ate quickly and in silence, looking at the little bottle. It was a salve and smelled terrible, but after his meal and he had time to rub it gently on his skin under the bandages it was cool to the touch. 

Mishima walked back to the throne room as Kaneshiro was walking out. Kaneshiro was a disgusting man. Fat on the hard work of the people, taxing them relentlessly for no reason Mishima could find. He walked into the throne room and saw the King looking bored.

“All right, send in the peasants,” the King drawled. Mishima took his place on the King's left side, his hands clasped behind him. Many of the people had complaints about the taxes, the crop, and the homeless. All things the King has heard before. All things the King has ignored. Mishima gripped his own hand tightly, keeping his fury away from the King's eyes. He was just a servant, he wasn't allowed to have opinions on such “complicated” matters.

Lunch was about as eventful as breakfast and the rest of the day seemed to drag on. As Mishima watched the sun begin to set he started to fidget. His meeting with the thief was approaching quickly and he couldn't help but feel nervous. When the King retired to his chambers Mishima washed the King's garments quicker than normal and walked out into the courtyard, sitting by his favorite oak tree.

“I didn't think you'd actually come.” Mishima jumped opened his eyes, unaware that he had even closed them. The thief stood in front of Mishima, a black cat on his shoulders. He held out his hand and Mishima took it, noticing how gentle the thief was when pulling him to his feet.

“Truth be told I wasn't sure I should've,” Mishima replied. “Thank you for the salve today by the way.” Mishima laughed at Akira's shocked expression, holding his side slightly since it hurt to laugh. “I'm sorry, I didn't know it was still suppose to be a secret.” Akira chuckled and put his hand gently against Mishima's cheek.

“I knew you'd see right through me,” Akira whispered. Mishima turned bright red and smiled shyly. “Yuuki, do you know where the Kamoshida keeps his crown?” Mishima's smile fell and uncertainty filled his eyes. “I know the King scares you, but I will promise you right now; I will not allow him to lay another finger on you.”

“How can your promise that? You don't work in the castle. As soon as he finds his crown missing tomorrow he's going to go crazy. And he's going to take it out on me,” Mishima countered.

“I have a plan. Ann and Ryuji have been helping me for the past few days, but even they don't know where the crown is kept. You have to trust me,” Akira said, his eyes full of sincerity. Mishima looked unsure, even with his heart screaming to believe him. Mishima couldn't say he was surprised that Ann and Ryuji were helping him. They despised the King more than most and had more guts than Mishima ever would.

“O-okay, I'll show you,” Mishima said after a few moments of hesitation. Akira smiled as Mishima began walking back into the castle. Akira followed behind, but Mishima could hardly tell. He was sticking to the shadows and he made little to no sound. Mishima walked down the dimly lit corridors, taking several twists and turns. Occasionally Mishima would pause, afraid he lost Akira, but the cat that was with Akira would make himself known for a moment to assure Mishima they were still close behind.

Mishima stopped in front of a large wooden door and began fidgeting with the end of his jacket. “This is the treasure room. It's where the King keeps his most prized possessions,” Mishima explained, hoping he wasn't going to regret his decision to help. Akira walked out of the shadows and cased the door and the wall surrounding it. After he was satsified he looked back to Mishima and smiled.

“Thank you Yuuki,” Akira said, his voice warm.

“Just don't forget about me okay? If you steal it I'm going to have to take on all of the King's wrath.” Akira walked over and gently wrapped his arms around Mishima's waist before kissing him tenderly. The kiss was light, but passionate and confusing to Mishima. But that didn't stop him from kissing back. When Akira pulled awake Mishima's face was bright red and his heart was racing.

“I never forget anyone I kiss,” Akira murmured. Mishima could only nod as Akira let go of him. “I'll be back for you, I swear.” Akira receded back into the shadows and Mishima brushed his fingertips across his lips. He had never been kissed before, and he couldn't help but feel embarrassed. How could someone so amazing want to kiss him? He shook his head slightly. 'I never forget anyone I kiss,' he said. That must mean he's kissed others. It couldn't have meant anything. Mishima sighed and walked back to the servants' quarters, wondering what the next day had in store for him.

When he woke up the next morning the castle was in chaos. Apparently a note was left on the throne late last night accusing the King of all the crimes he's committed against the people and stating the intent of stealing his greatest treasure. The King spent most of his day in meetings with the guards and Knight Captain Niijima, essentially giving Mishima a reprieve from his duties. Mishima spent his free time holding his hands together to keep them from visibly shaking and pacing across the castle. He couldn't shake the fear that the King would find out he was consorting with the thief and it put him on edge.

“Mishima? Are you okay?” Mishima nearly jumped out of his skin as he turned around quickly, wincing at the pain in his side. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.” Ann placed her hand on his arm, seemingly attempting to calm him down. “It'll be all right, don't worry so much.”

“But I'm the King's personal servant. I'm the closest to him when he loses his temper,” Mishima replied, trying to hide the fear in his voice. Ann simply smiled at him and removed her hand from his arm.

“I trust Akira. You should too.” Ann walked off, her smile betraying her glee of the King's situation. Out of all the servants, Ann hated the King the most. Mishima sighed and continued his pacing. He would have much rather gone back to the servants' quarters or in the courtyard to pass the time, but with the King's agitated state Mishima didn't dare go too far. On the off chance the King called for him he didn't want to keep him waiting.

For the rest of the day the King held emergency meetings with Kaneshiro and Knight Captain Niijima, as well as carrying out his already scheduled meeting with Madarame about a self portrait. Mishima was always around, but never too close. As night fell the King increased the guards patrolling the halls and guarding his treasure room. The letter was all anyone could talk about in the servants' quarters as everyone prepared for bed. Mishima stayed quiet, though no one really paid any notice. After all it wasn't all that different from the norm.

After the others were asleep Mishima quietly crept out of the servants' quarters. He couldn't sleep even if he wanted to. Between the anxiety about the King and the curiosity surrounding Akira, sleep was the last thing he could attain. He walked to the courtyard, breathing in the fresh air. The night was clear and warm, the breeze refreshing.

“Thanks for making this easy Yuuki.” Mishima nearly leapt out as his skin as he spun around. Akira sat atop a black stallion, a smirk on his lips. Mishima spotted the crown in a bag Akira wore and he could hardly believe it. Akira had done it. He had stolen the crown. Akira held out his hand and Mishima felt his heart nearly burst out of his chest.

“Joker! They're coming!” Mishima looked past Akira and saw two more figures in masks on horses. Horses he recognized from the royal stables. He looked back at Akira and Akira just smiled.

“I made a promise remember?” Akira purred. Mishima couldn't help but smile as he took Akira's hand. Akira pulled him up, helping him sit behind him. Mishima wrapped his arms around Akira's waist and rested his head against Akira's back.

“What's your horse's name?” Mishima asked. His mind was swirling so much it was the first thing to come out of his mouth. Akira chuckled slightly, as if he knew Mishima's thought process.

“Arsene,” Akira replied. The four of them rode hard though the castle, avoiding guards or simply going through them. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.

“This is going to change everything,” Mishima murmured.

“I'm counting on it,” Akira answered with a laugh. It even sounded as if Arsene laughed with him as they broke through the front gates and out to freedom.


End file.
